Chapter Twenty-two – Save Your Love
Chapter Twenty-two
Maisey
SAVE YOUR LOVE
Performed by Great White
PRESENT DAY
HIM: What a shitty way to wake up.
HIM: I had plans for our morning, darlin’.
HIM: But now I have new plans. The next time we spend the night together, I want you in nothing but that blue robe.
I want nothing on below it but warm skin so, when I push it open, all I see are those pretty pink nipples.
I want to feast on them for a long while before I slide my finger inside you and watch your eyes go from sage to forest green.
I want to hear you pant and beg and scream my name.
Thirty minutes later…
HER: Holy bejesus, Beckett! I read that text while sitting next to my dad at breakfast! What would I have done if he’d glanced over and seen something?!
HER: You can’t say things like that, not without warning me first so I can hide my phone.
HER: Maybe you’re taking this friends-with-benefits thing a bit too far.
Two hours later….
HIM: Hey, Maise?
HER: Yeah?
HIM: Warning…
HER: …
HIM: I also want you to wear that robe while you’re sitting on my kitchen counter. I want to spread you open, drop to my knees, and make a meal of you. I want to give you the buzz I promised the other night.
HER: I’m at work!
HIM: It might be cruel, but I like knowing you’re aching for me just as much as I’m aching for you. Four days at the station have never seemed so interminable.
HIM: And let’s be clear—we’ve never simply been friends, and this is a hell of a lot more than friends with benefits.
The sexy texts Beckett sent the first day of his shift were just the start of a steady stream of them that tortured me for four days.
They were tantalizing. Addictive. Excruciating.
Even after I’d told him to warn me before sending any more, he never really did.
He’d simply text the word “warning” followed two seconds later by something so steamy it made me blush harder than any romance novel ever had.
Maybe it was because I’d always known those weren’t real.
They were fake things fictional people said to each other.
But knowing Beckett’s hands had typed those words made my body feel like it might combust.
To get even, I slipped into his room one morning wearing nothing but the blue robe he’d first mentioned and snapped a selfie on his bed.
Nothing explicit—just a hint of cleavage, a bare thigh—but enough to make my pulse race as I hit send.
I was half thrilled, half terrified. It felt reckless, with a bit of that sinfulness I’d told Beckett I wanted to experience.
Still, the thought of the pictures somehow getting out in the world made my stomach twist. Then again, if they did get out, they weren’t racy enough to ruin me.
Maybe enough for names to be whispered in my direction, but I’d been called names before and survived it.
Besides, I really liked this—the new way we’d found to taunt and tease.
The back-and-forth exchange felt like an extended round of foreplay, which made waiting for Beckett to finish his shift—waiting for what he’d promised—seem to last for years rather than days.
Not even extra practice sessions with Titan or long hours at work helped ease the ache.
The only thing that pulled me from the endless wait was dealing with Dad’s chaos.
His memory failed several times during the week.
The first time, he called me Marjorie and asked when Chelsea and I were getting home from school.
And one time, when I’d been at work, he turned on Mikey, demanding to know why he was being held at Kurt’s like a prisoner.
He stormed next door, and when I’d hurried home and found him, he’d been staring, horrified, at the fire damage.
By the time he came back to himself, we were all shaken.
After that, I clung to every lucid moment he had, treasuring every card game and every laugh, as if they might be his last. So when I came home one night and he showed me a list of retirement communities, my heart lurched.
None of them were in Swift Rivers, and even the closest felt too far.
I wasn’t ready to lose seconds with my dad, let alone miles.
The never-ending week meant that by Thursday, after working two extra shifts so I could have the weekend off for the Firefighter Ball and the Fourth of July show, I was running on fumes.
When I walked through the front door, I was ready to bury my head in my pillow and sleep for twelve hours straight.
Laughter greeted me—a girlish giggle that had my brows raising. When I walked into the kitchen, I found a teenage girl sitting with Mikey and Dad at the table. They weren’t playing Dad’s favorite, King’s Corners, but poker, and there was a pile of real cash sitting between them.
“What’s all this?” I asked, unable to keep the worry from my tone.
Mikey looked up with a grin that looked just like Stoney’s. “Mr. Campbell is teaching Letty and me how to play poker without any tells.”
The pleasure on Dad’s face eased the concern that had gripped me.
“I think I’ve been taken in by another card shark. This one and Andie should start a club,” Dad said with a wave at the girl. “Letty’s blank face is better than your sister’s, which is saying something because Chelsea is a damn good actress.”
My pulse leaped. Dad didn’t often talk about Chelsea—and certainly not to compliment her.
I hadn’t realized he’d ever seen my sister act.
He’d always been on the road, and while Mom had filmed my sister’s plays and my horse shows for him, I’d never seen him watching them.
But the way he’d praised her so matter-of-factly made it clear he had seen her.
That knowledge made me sad for all of us, but mainly for Chelsea, because she’d been the one most wounded by his apparent disinterest.
I came to stand next to Dad, elbow resting on his shoulder, and watched as they finished the hand. Letty won the pot, shoving a fist in the air in triumph.
“That’s it. I’m done. You’ve taken all my cash,” Dad chuckled.
The four of us set the kitchen to rights, and then the teens gathered their belongings.
“Why don’t you head out to the car,” I told them. “I’ll be right there.”
“We can walk home,” Mikey offered.
I shook my head. “No way. It’s late. I’ll drop you both off.”
The disappointment on the teen’s face was comical. I was clearly thwarting his plans for the trip home. I watched them leave before turning to my father with my lips twitching.
“I can’t believe you taught them how to gamble.”
Dad shrugged. “I had to pay him somehow. Kid has been babysitting me all week.”
All humor vanished. “What?” I shook my head. “No.”
Dad raised a brow. “After all these years, don’t start lying to me now.
It sucks knowing I need someone watching over me, but we both know it’s the truth.
” He suddenly looked older and more tired than he had since coming home from the hospital.
“I set fire to the house, Maisey. We’re lucky the fire marshal’s report was as inconclusive as it was, or the insurance wouldn’t have paid a dime. ”
It had been a relief when Ron’s report had noted the Sterno’s presence but left out any hint of the fire being set on purpose. I gave Dad a side hug, squeezing him tight because I didn’t know what else to say.
“Hurts even more than losing my job did to know I need watching,” he said quietly. “But if I did something while we’re staying here”—he looked around the house—“I’d never forgive myself. Better to live with a bit of wounded pride than much bigger regrets.”
Tears welled, and he patted my shoulder.
“Don’t be sad. It’s just life. We’ll get through it. Now, go take those kids home before they start making out in your back seat.”
I snorted. “You’re far wiser about the actions of teenagers than I ever expected.”
“Just because I didn’t have to worry about you, doesn’t mean I wasn’t aware of what Chelsea got up to.
Your mother and I went a few rounds about it, but neither of us knew exactly how to put an end to her antics.
Truth is, if we had, it might have forced her to run away before she’d finished school. ”
He said it with regret, as if he wished he hadn’t told Chelsea to leave. I hadn’t blamed him for drawing the line at the time, but I also hadn’t known it had hurt him as much as it obviously had. Worse, Chelsea would never know what it had cost him.
As horrible as the situation with Dad’s finances, the fire, and his stroke had been, it had also given us something good. It had given us this time together, not as a child and a parent or as a caregiver and a patient, but as two adults who cared about each other.
The lump in my throat returned, and I was unable to respond. Instead, I grabbed my bag and Beckett’s key fob and headed out to the SUV.
Much to my amusement, as soon as they heard the back door slam, the teens jumped apart from where they’d been leaning against Beckett’s car with Letty in Mikey’s arms. He held the passenger door open for her, and she climbed in with a bashful smile so different than the one she’d given my father after winning the last hand.
I dropped Letty off first, and Mikey walked her to the door, gave her a quick peck, and then came back to me with a similar bashful look.
When I pulled into his drive and he stepped out, I said, “Thanks for all your help this week, Mikey. I’m truly grateful. I hope you have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Tuesday?”
He ducked his head back in, eyes startled. “Beckett asked if I’d spend the night tomorrow. He said you were going to the Firefighters Ball and would be staying overnight.”
While I hadn’t forgotten about the ball or the fact I’d agreed to stay with Beckett at the hotel, I hadn’t thought about Dad either.
Hadn’t thought about needing someone to stay with him overnight when it should have been my priority.
Instead, the sensual texts from Beckett had been practically all I could think about.
Then, the realization that both Dad and Mikey would know exactly what it meant that Beckett and I were staying together hit me, and I flushed bright red. Sex wasn’t embarrassing or shameful, but that didn’t mean I wanted my father and a teenager to know I was planning on having it.
After clearing my throat, I said, “Right. Thank you for staying with Dad again.”
As soon as he’d shut the door and headed up the steps, another realization struck. I had a much bigger problem than anyone knowing I’d be sleeping with my supposed fiancé. As I turned the SUV around and drove back toward the house, I called Fallon.
“Hey, Maise,” she greeted.
“I don’t have a dress.”
Silence beat between us for a second before she said, “What?”
“I don’t have a dress for the Firefighters Ball. And it’s tomorrow. And I have nothing but summer dresses that are absolutely not appropriate. And I need new underwear. Something sexy because Beckett made plans for us to stay the night at the hotel.”
Fallon laughed. “What are you really panicking over? Not having something to wear or the fact Beckett will be taking the dress off?”
“Both!” I exhaled shakily.
When I’d been at the ranch, practicing, this week and told Fallon about how things had progressed with Beckett, she’d been surprised. But she also hadn’t been as certain as I was that it would end badly. She seemed convinced everything would end up just like in my romance novels.
“I’m scheduled to take a group of beginners out on a ride tomorrow,” she said. “But I’ll see if Chuck can take it for me. I’ll come pick you up, and we’ll go shopping for a dress and for the lingerie to go with it.”
Relief bled through me.
I pulled into Beckett’s driveway and shut off the engine, switching her call from the car’s speaker to the phone’s before opening the door.
“Thanks for agreeing to go with—”
I barely registered a sound coming from behind me before my head exploded in agony. The blow drove me to my hands and knees, a cry tearing out of me as pain spiraled through my skull. My phone skittered across the gravel and disappeared beneath the SUV.
My ears rang. My head spun. From somewhere distant, I heard Fallon screaming my name, tangled with Vader’s frantic barking.
Instinct surged—move, fight, do something. I forced myself onto my knees, but another hit slammed between my shoulder blades.
My chin hit the gravel, white lights burst in my eyes, and my vision swam.
Through the blur, I made out a pair of shiny, steel-toed work boots stopping in front of me.
A gloved hand fisted in my shirt, ripping it, and true panic surged, stealing what remained of my breath.
Ugly fears and uglier possibilities crashed over me.
I commanded my hands to move. To punch. To claw. To slap. But my body refused to obey.
Instead, darkness whirled, and oblivion took me.